


A Grief Shared

by Drag0nst0rm



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Referenced Arwen/Aragorn, Referenced Maglor/Maglor's Canonical Wife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: Maglor was expecting to find Lothlorien abandoned.He was not expecting this.





	A Grief Shared

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back through old posted stories, it looks like I never got around to cross-posting this one from Tumblr. It was an attempt to practice writing Arwen as I've referenced her plenty but never actually included her in anything.
> 
> I don't own the Silmarillion or Lord of the Rings.

He had thought to find his cousin’s lands empty. The songs he had overheard as he went to the harbor had sung of emptiness and abandonment, of one last ship departing.

In hindsight, he thought wryly, he should have allowed for poetic license. He had certainly made use of it often enough.

The last thing he had wanted was a confrontation with any of his distant kin. He had only wanted … he hardly knew. To glimpse the last of their glory as it faded, perhaps. To feel the last threads of his cousin’s magic and thus not feel quite so alone.

To not actually be alone, though, was terrifying. It would be so easy for fear to become bloodshed again. He ought to go.

And yet … Maglor hesitated. There was so much grief in the song that now wound through the forest. Grief such as he had not heard outside of himself since his brother had thrown himself into the depths of the earth.

That comparison was what drove him forward. Probably futilely, just like his reaching hand had been then, just as all his efforts had been, but for all that, he still had to try.

It was a woman he saw, a woman sitting on a tall green mound. She was beautiful, yet not quite elvish. Not quite human, either.

_Peredhel._

After that, he could hardly have stopped himself from raising his voice in counterpoint to her grief, foolish though it no doubt was.

She was not Elrond or Elros. She would want no comfort from him.

He sang anyway.

He started by echoing her song, slowly weaving his own grief into it. She startled at the second voice but sang on, so he did too, softly turning his words from despair to hope.

At the very mention of estel however, she rebelled. Hope was dead, and only grief remained.

He had heard that before from Maedhros. He challenged it now as he had for long years then.

The pattern was much like a song duel, though rarely was a duel fought on such terms as these, where one fought for her own despair, and her opponent fought for a hope he himself did not quite believe in. Despair was an old companion of his by now. He just had no wish to abandon her to its miserable company.

He would find joy for her, if he could. If he was yet capable of doing some small good.

She was a powerful singer, and it was a delight to have a challenge, any challenge, after countless years of singing alone. As the light faded, however, his invention began to fail. It had been so long since he had been called upon to do this. He borrowed liberally from what he had once sang to Maedhros in desperate attempts to help his brother persevere.

That was a mistake. He only realized how much of one when her eyes widened in shock, and he thought back over what he had just sang.

_The Oath may yet be fulfilled._

Not quite applicable here.

Or at least, there had _better_ not be any oaths applicable here.

“Maglor?” she asked in disbelief, rising from her grassy seat.

Maglor stepped back hastily, hands raised to show their emptiness. “I mean you no harm, my lady,” he said. “I thought only to help your grief, but I will cease intruding at once - “

“Maglor,” she repeated, all but flying down the hill towards him. 

_Towards_ him?

“My father thought you dead!”

He winced. “As I probably ought to be.”

She shook her head in dismissal of this. “He searched for you for so long.” Her look turned accusing. “He missed you.”

There were many he could imagine looking for him, but few he could flatter himself into thinking would fulfill the latter claim.

And she was half-elven.

“Elrond?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” she said, coloring slightly. “Forgive me. I forgot you would not know me. I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrian, wife of - “ Here her voice broke.

“Of the man you sang for,” he said gently. “For what little it is worth, I am very sorry for your loss. I am familiar with the pain of losing a spouse.”

She seemed grateful for the distraction he presented. “Father never mentioned that.”

Maglor winced. “We tried not to burden the twins with our troubles any more than we already had. We were not always successful, I fear, but in some few instances we were.” He hesitated, knowing it might cause her more grief, but he could not help but ask. “Your father, is he - ?”

“He sailed,” she said. Her face was shadowed. “Recently as elves count it, some time ago as men do.”

“While you were yet here?” Elrond and Elros had suffered from their own parents’ passage, however understandable that passage had been. He doubted very much that Elrond would have made the trip lightly while his daughter remained on these shores.

She raised her chin. “He did not want to. We had to press him, and in the end, he had to concede that one way or another he would soon depart. His health was not … the loss of the ring cost him much.”

He knew nothing of what ring she might be talking about, but he understood the rest well enough. “But he will have recovered in Aman?” he asked somewhat desperately.

“Of course,” she said in some surprise, and he was forcefully reminded that she had never been there. She didn’t fully understand that even there, grief still came.

“Of course,” he repeated and tried to smile. “I should - “ He made a move to go.

Her face fell. “Will you not linger a little longer? I confess I had hoped that not quite all my mother’s kin would have departed when I came here. I would welcome someone with which to speak. I could tell you more of my father, if you wish,” she added in enticement.

That anyone wished for his company took a moment to process, but - why not? Perhaps he could keep her from despair as he had failed to keep his brother. And to speak to Elrond’s daughter, to know more of her father … 

It might yet come to ill, he reminded himself sternly.

He allowed himself to be led forward anyway.


End file.
